


overcast by your shadow as the world moves on

by sadsunshinegirl (soldierwitch)



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierwitch/pseuds/sadsunshinegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her baby is dead. Deceased. He or she is gone. She feels her heart shatter at the words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	overcast by your shadow as the world moves on

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this years ago when the ep with Blair's miscarriage occurred and what spurred it on was the aftermath of that unfortunate event and the subsequent lack of adequate focus on it in regards to Blair. She wasn't given much time to really process her loss and her feelings on herself and what happened. Leighton Meester did as much as she could with what she was given but the show didn't do enough for me. So this fic came into being. Sadly, I wasn't able to finish it by the time that arc finished or when the show ended but I've finished it now and I'm proud of this labor of love and I hope it does Blair justice.
> 
> Title taken from the song 'In This Shirt' by The Irrepressibles

Serena’s fingers thread through hers, but she can’t feel them. Her baby is dead. Deceased. He or she is gone. She feels her heart shatter at the words. But the thought of Chuck, and his safety, suspends the pieces. They hang in her chest cavity waiting for the doctor’s words. It doesn’t look good. The pieces stay suspended.

Her fingers loose themselves from Serena’s as the sound of the doctor’s footfalls fade down the hall. She turns her back and pulls the covers over her shoulder. Serena doesn’t say a word as she leaves, and Blair’s too busy noticing how hollow she feels to care. She’s alone for approximately two minutes. The tick tick tick of the clock making her aware of how slowly time moves.

He doesn’t say anything; he merely makes sounds. The brush of his coat against the harsh fabric of the hospital chair. The scuff of his shoes against the floor. A sigh passes his lips; it makes her bite hers.

His hand rests on the edge of her hospital bed. The slight pulling of the sheet against her side tells her that he’s gripping it. She turns around, but she doesn’t look at him. Instead, she stares at his nails. For some reason she expected them to be unkept. She’s never really taken notice of his finger nails before. They’re round, cut down to the cuticles. There’s a bit of ink under one nail. She says to it, my baby’s gone.

The sharp intake of breath that she hears causes a tear to fall. Then another. And another and another and another until she feels like Alice, upset and lost, wishing for everything to go back to the way it was. He inches his hand towards hers. The finger, with the nail dotted with ink, touches her first. She latches on to it and she moves her hand up his arm ‘til she’s half yanking him towards her as she scoots over to make room for him. He sits when there is enough room for both of them, and she lifts his arm to settle herself against his side. Blair tries to bury herself into him, and she uses the shield of her covers to hide from the world. 

The press of his lips against the top of her head makes her exhale his name. 

"Dan."

One syllable, and yet it’s hard for her to say without her voice shaking. 

"Dan."

"I’m so sorry, Blair."

She can hear the sadness in his voice. Swears she hears the sound of tears unsticking themselves from the inside of his throat. It makes her fingers flex before tightening their hold on him.

....

She fell asleep. She knows because when she opens her eyes, he’s gone. His coat still sits on the chair; its arms folded properly. More proper than he will ever be. Her hands push the covers back. When her feet touch the floor she snatches them back. It’s cold. She tries again, gingerly placing each foot until she’s satisfied. The turn of her head brings into focus the robe lying at the bottom of the hospital bed as well as the matching slippers. 

Slipping out of the room is easy. Nurses and doctors pass without glancing at her. Some with charts, some with folders, and others with nothing but stiff smiles perched on their lips. She reaches the chapel; the doors are closed. Her hand smooths down the wood until she reaches the knob. It’s oddly comforting.

The first time she opens her mouth nothing comes out. On the way to the chapel she had thought about exactly what she was going to say, but the words are lost to her now. The golden cross before her makes her feel so small. Unimportant. And she guesses in the grand scheme of things she is. But her baby was important. Her baby was important! She finds the words.

"You took my baby from me. You can’t take Chuck. I promise…I promise that I will stay away from him, if you help him. You have to help him. Please."

As soon as the words leave her mouth—traveling past the tiny sobs that force themselves from her throat—the doctor opens the doors. She’s smiling; she says that Chuck is going to make it. The pieces of her heart arrange themselves into a shape that’s sort of heart like. They, however, still remain pieces. She doubts her heart will ever be a whole again.

The nod of her head and a sniff from her nose sends the doctor on her way. Blair takes a moment to get herself together. She makes her hands stop shaking, and pretends that it makes her body stop shaking as well. Relief bubbles in her esophagus, but she won’t let the breath go. She keeps it, and pushes it down into the pit of her lungs. Chuck’s going to be okay. It doesn’t mean that she will.

She lets her feet lead her to Chuck’s room. His eyes are closed. He’s bandaged. He almost looks as broken as she feels. It makes her lip tremble. She lets her eyes take one last look.

"Just because we can’t be together doesn’t mean that I don’t love you," she whispers.

When she returns to her room, Dan’s coat is gone and in its place is Louis. He looks up as soon as he hears her come in. He stands immediately and wraps his arms around her. She stiffly lifts her arms so that her hands lay flat against his back. The hug ends just as quickly as it started and she’s glad. He ushers her to the bed. She doesn’t want him to touch her, but she doesn’t say anything. His touch reminds her of what she was going to do. She’s never voluntarily left someone; she’s always been the one to be left or forced out. Serena left her. Nate left her. Chuck left her. Then Chuck’s actions and how he made her feel made her leave. Her inadequacy made her leave another time, and then the last time he pushed her away for her own good. But she’s never actually left someone she loves because she didn’t want them anymore. She’s never taken that step before. It felt like throwing the old toy you don’t want anymore into the corner to be forgotten about. Except Louis isn’t made of plastic. He’s flesh and bone, and his fingertips drawing circles on her back is a sharp reminder. He can’t be thrown into a corner so carelessly because unlike minions and toys, Louis matters. Has mattered since the moment he smiled at her politely but with so much kindness. It’s just he didn’t matter enough.

The next day is filled with visits. Her mother and Cyrus. Her father and Roman. Dorota and Anya. Serena, Nate, and Louis. Dan doesn’t come until night. Like before, he doesn’t say anything. There are only sounds. Sad sounds. He’s shuffling his feet, and there’s a sniff now and again.

"Are you crying?"

He’s not startled by the sound of her voice. Her attempt at feigning sleep clearly failed.

"No."

"Good."

"Are you crying?"

"No, but I have been. My tear ducts are taking a break."

"Good."

"What’s so good about crying? It’s not going to bring my baby back."

The room fills with silence. Blair takes note of the shadows playing across Dan’s face. There seem to be bags under his eyes, but that might just be a trick of the darkness. Things tend to look different in the light.

"I can’t seem to stop crying for more than an hour. The visits from my family and friends helped a bit. But every time someone leaves I’m reminded of how alone I feel."

"Where’s Louis?"

She looks down.

"I sent him away."

"Blair."

She looks up.

"I know. I just can’t look at him. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left with Chuck. This is my punishment, isn’t it, Dan? Karma’s way of showing me how selfish I’ve been."

He scoots his chair closer and places a hand on her cheek. The same one with the barely there scar.

"It was an accident, Blair."

She shakes her head and grabs his fingers. Toys with them. Won’t look him in the eye.

"It doesn’t feel like it was. I feel empty, and there isn’t anything I can do about it."

"No, there isn’t."

"Way to be helpful, Humphrey."

"I..I mean Blair…look I just…I really just don’t know what to say."

She looks up, and squeezes his hand.

"Then don’t say anything. Just stay here. Fill the air with your nonsense or something, just don’t go anywhere."

"I won’t."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Blair."

He keeps his promise until morning. She makes him leave. Her family will be in, she knows, and she doesn’t want to have to explain why he was here all night. It’s the day she gets to go home anyway; she’ll see him later. 

Five minutes. She waits five minutes before calling. Long enough for a cry into her pillow. Long enough to let the feeling of unease seep under skin. She’s only been back at the penthouse for ten minutes. Five spent working up the will to go to her room, and the other five on the cry. That’s more than enough time. She’s been strong since the moment Serena walked in with her family in tow. She doesn’t want to be strong anymore. He picks up on the second ring.

"I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

Dan makes it on time. She can hear him greet Dorota, and then make his way up the stairs. Her door is open. He closes it behind him.

"Hey."

She notices how comfortable he is moving in her room. He throws his jacket on her desk chair, and slips his shoes off at the foot of her bed. He even plops down a bit before laying his head down on one of her pillows.

Blair waits a moment before saying, "You’re late."

He rolls his eyes and smiles just a bit. "You’re being nit picky. Was I just supposed to ignore Dorota and literally fly up you’re ridiculous staircase?"

"Yes."

She smothers the smile as soon as it sits on her lips. 

"Don’t do that."

"Don’t do what?"

"You know what."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Humphrey."

"You’re allowed to smile."

As usual she ignores him and moves the conversation on.

"I have to go to Monaco tomorrow."

The furrowing of his brows creates a crease right between them. She wants to take her thumb and smooth it out. He’ll get wrinkles like that she thinks. She’s not sure if he has a face for wrinkles.

"But, you just got out of the hospital."

"Louis’ mother wants to have a memorial for the baby. She says that an heir must be given the proper respect. It has to be on Monaco soil."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There’s a pause and in between she watches him. Takes in the concern in his eyes. There’s no pity. It’s interesting because everybody pities her. Their words of condolence ringing in her ears, doing nothing but making them uncomfortable and making her feel even worse. But Dan had only said sorry the once. She appreciates that.

"I’ll be gone for awhile. Things are still going on as scheduled for the wedding preparations. There are dinners to go to, and…"

He sits up and looks down at her.

"Wait, you’re still getting married?"

"Yes, I have to."

"No, you don’t. Blair, you were leaving Louis for Chuck."

She sits up too.

"I know that but things are different now. I have to marry, Louis."

"No, you don’t."

"Yes, I do!" She didn’t mean to yell, but she needs him to understand. He’s the only one who can understand, and she needs him. "I made a deal with God. If he saved Chuck then I would stay away from him and get married to Louis. You don’t break promises to God."

"Don’t you think that…"

"No, I don’t think I’m being ridiculous. I made that deal, and I plan to stick with it. No one can ever know, Dan."

"Blair…"

"No one. Okay?"

"Okay. Just…," He uses his thumb to brush some of her tears away. "…stop crying."

"I’m not crying. My eyes are watering because I can’t handle your stink, Humphrey. You brought that putrid Brooklyn smell with you."

"I could just go."

She grabs his sleeve tightly.

"No."

"Okay."

They lay back down.

....

The clouds in Monaco look exactly the same as the clouds in New York with exception to their shape. 

And their wispy curly q tails. 

And the cotton fluff that make them. 

Really the clouds in Monaco look like a spectacularly good unlikeness of the clouds in New York. It makes her stomach clench every morning as her curtains are drawn and the maids smile tightly at her.

Her days are spent ignoring the ache that runs through her body like an electric current. She smiles, and she shakes hands. The minutes pass slowly and by the time her head hits her pillow, she’s counted over a hundred times where she nearly slipped. The veneer cracking just a bit only to be plastered over and made just as new. In Monaco, no one frowns at a plastic smile. So, everyday she smiles wider and wider, stretching her lips into pleasant upturns and playful side slants.

No one says anything about the happy couple that isn’t. They smile just as bright as she, patting her shoulders and kissing her cheeks. But no one utters a word. Blair doesn’t count the words whispered behind half closed doors and strategically placed hands. 

Louis is perfect. He’s attentive and the sadness in his eyes comes close to matching hers. He rubs a reassuring thumb across her spine through dinners and talks, holds her gaze and sends her sad smiles over brunch. But she can tell by the way his lips slag just a bit when she enters a room that she’s lost whatever it was that made her special to him. Her feet are planted firmly on the ground now, she’s fallen off her pedestal and he’s going through the motions.

On their last day, he corners her in the library. Presses her gently against the wall and plays with the ribbon of her blue dress. He can’t look her in the eye.

Blair.

She takes his hands in hers and squeezes. There is a part of her that loves him. Loves the way that she sometimes can’t understand what he’s saying because certain words get eaten by his accent. Loves how he sometimes slips into French in the middle of a sentence said in English and doesn’t register it until he’s finished his thought. But those little moments where she thinks _god, I could love this man so completely_ are too far and in between to really mean much. Love shouldn’t be a sometimes thing.

It doesn’t matter though because this isn’t about love anymore. This is about keeping a promise, a commitment. So, she slides her fingers up his arms and his shoulders and settles them in his hair. Presses her forehead to his and just breaths. He keeps his eyes cast down and she closes hers. And for a moment, everything feels almost right.

....

She lands the next day, Serena and Dan waiting for her at the gate. She’s alone, hand clasped tight to the handle of her carry on. Louis chose to stay in Monaco. He needs his family, and she finally admitted that she needs some space. When the words left her mouth, she quickly bottled up the sentences that wanted to follow and pushed them back down into herself. Blair gave him the mild version of her feelings. Explaining her need to be with her family as well and how she loves him and wants to marry him but she also needs a chance to grieve and honor their child without having to pretend like she’s okay. She doesn’t mention that she’ll still feel like she has to put on a show in the Upper East Side. It’s really not the place; it’s the people that make the difference.

Serena shuffles forward first. A smile works its way onto her lips, and Blair wants so badly to wipe it from her mouth with her sleeve. She’s not a big fan of genuine smiles right now. At least not happy ones. And she knows that Serena is generally happy all the time but for once Blair would like to feel like the world is on the same page as her. That it would be raining right now not sunny. That the people walking past would have downcast faces and hunched shoulders. 

Serena’s arms used to make her feel like she was home. She was the first person she looked for when coming back from a trip. The first person she wanted to talk to and embrace. The first person she wanted her skin to come in contact with even if blocked by layers of clothing. But somewhere along the way she lost that feeling. Blair thinks she might have found it again when she looks at Dan over Serena’s shoulder. She doesn’t think too much about the stray thought, too caught up in his brown eyes and the way they say, _Welcome home, Blair Waldorf_.

When they pull back, Blair pushes her unoccupied hand into her pocket and slowly makes her way over to Dan.

"Humphrey."

"Waldorf."

She wants to run her fingers through his god awful hair and push the stupid curl on his forehead to the side. She’s glad for the distraction of her carry on and her coat pocket. There’s also the heat of Serena by her side to remember.

"New York wasn’t the same without you."

Her Manolo Blahnik’s scuff at the floor once before she catches herself. He’s always known the right thing to say. It’s what she likes about him, and what she hates about him.

"Of course. No queendom is the same without its queen."

He smirks. She feels her lips twitch. They stare.

Serena clears her throat and looks between the two of them.

"The car is waiting. I’m sure they’ve grabbed your luggage by now."

Blair blinks and looks to her side.

"Right."

"Anyway, you must be tired. How about we go home and I draw you a nice hot bath?" 

"That sounds nice, S."

Her eyes flick back to Dan. He fumbles a bit. Tripping over his words before pulling his keys out of his pocket and getting out, "Well, I’m glad you’re back, Blair. It really wasn’t the same without you." He waves and turns to walk away but then pauses. Blair can tell the exact moment that he thinks _fuck it_ before turning to her and pulling her into a hug. She tucks her head into the curve of his neck the same way he tucks his into hers, and they stand there. Hands grasping at fabric.

Dan whispers, "I really did miss you," before pulling away. And Blair does the best she can not to breakdown. She misses the feel of his arms the moment that they are no longer around her. For the first time in three weeks she felt like though things were never going to be fine or alright or okay again, she’d make it somehow. She wants that feeling back.

"See you later," he says. It’s meant for the both of Serena and Blair but he’s only looking at Blair when he says it and then he’s gone with a wave and a turn of his back. Blair watches until he gets lost in the crowd.

"Blair?"

She shakes her head and grabs the handle of her carry on, ignoring the question in Serena’s voice.

"I’d really like that hot bath."

Serena smiles again but it’s fake. Blair likes it.

"Right. Hot bath and then macaroons."

They set off, a space between them that wasn’t there before.

Serena’s plastic smile grows wider and wider as the day goes on. Blair likes the way it makes her lips twitch. But she doesn’t like the suspicious glances Serena keeps sending her from across the room. She’s been glaring daggers into her back since they left the airport and Blair’s too tired to deal with her childishness so she snaps.

"What?"

Blue eyes blink back at her.

"Serena, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about? You’ve barely said a word to me since we got settled."

And as always, instead of facing a situation head on, Serena tosses her head back and sticks her nose up in the air. Even while being petulant and bratty, she still looks perfect. Blair hates that.

"Blair, please. I just haven’t felt like talking. Is that a crime now?"

"No, you know what? It’s not. So, you can continue being frigid over here and I’m going to go to my room where it’s a bit warmer."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Blair closes her door softly but firmly. She’s not a child anymore and she refuses to act like one. But as soon as she’s alone and takes a look around she sinks to the floor, suddenly feeling sick. Everything is too put together and in order; it’s making her skin crawl. Slipping off her shoes, she lets her stocking clad toes wiggle against the carpet and then sets into action. Blair untucks the covers of her bed and throws some of the pillows on the floor. She knocks over the neat row of lipstick tubes on her vanity, chucks her heels to the side of the room, and stomps over to her closet, flinging open the doors. Shifting through her clothes unhinges her. She can feel the airtight lock she had on her emotions begin to open. Everything is two sizes too big or maternity wear. Blair gathers as many hangers as she can and throws them all onto her bed. Furiously, she turns back and does the same thing over and over until all that’s left is a sad collection of shirts, dresses, and skirts. This must have been the reason Dorota had insisted on packing for her trip to Monaco. But if that’s the case then why did she not empty her closet out while she was gone?

Tears chase each other down the expansion of her cheeks, but Blair pays them no mind. She takes in the mess that she’s made and then takes a breath in. And then another and another until she’s calmed. With a few passes of her hands her cheeks are dry. She stands shakily and begins to tidy her room back to the way that it should be, taking care to fold the clothes she’s thrown and stack them in the corner to be boxed and given away. When she’s done Blair writes a note to Dorota asking her to give them to charity and to send for her clothes that they had stored. 

With a sigh Blair sinks on to her bed and waits for sleep to claim her.

....

Rainbowed light filters through the stained glass windows of the church. A stripe of blue clashes horribly with the burgundy of the pew’s cushion; oddly, Blair finds it comforting. Her fingers are clasped together and she bows her head to begin.

Several minutes pass before she lifts her head. She nods slightly and then stands brushing non-existent wrinkles from her skirt before setting off. The hand that settles into the dip of her back is familiar and reassuring. She doesn’t flinch, choosing instead to lean into it, still ignoring the boy who sat silently at her side and is now walking out with her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the notches of her vertebrae. 

They exit the church and he grabs her hand to help her down the stairs. The delicate, shallow hold on his hand shifts something in her. It’s nothing new. He’s been enacting the simple gesture since she stumbled the first day they came here. She let him believe that it was a small imbalance in her equilibrium and he continued to outstretch his arm and link their fingers whenever they came to steps. Blair couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the tripping of her feet had been due to a sharp pain in her heart; the feel of some of its pieces fusing together. It felt too private, something for herself only. But today feels different. Blair’s not sure why but she feels like sharing. They haven’t spoken much about her sudden need to pray or why she insists that he come with her every time. She’s kept her lips pressed to the issue and he hasn’t once tried to pry an answer from her. Questions have been swimming in his eyes for days but he hasn’t put a voice to them. She thinks maybe that’s the reason for the quick flutter of lightness that thrums through her body whenever she sees him; he remains there for her without question. She cannot say the same for everyone else.

Serena has done nothing but put her foot in her mouth repeatedly. Her questions hang stale in the air and after a few days she stops asking all together. Blair loves her but things wash too easily off her golden skin and she has always thought more of action than reflection. And nowadays she’s so busy with Nate and taking down Gossip Girl, needing to be the knight if she can’t be the friend. But it’s not what Blair needs. She appreciates it, but it’s not what she needs. So, the two slip into awkward conversations that build into nothing. Blair is tired of the never ending cycle that is the empty words that fill the space between her and Serena. They don’t confide in each other anymore and she can see the gap widening. She can also see the boy between him. But instead of him being golden and bright like Serena, he’s moody with a mop of chocolate curls, a plethora of plaid everything, and ink stained fingers. And though Blair knows that history isn’t repeating itself with the roles reversed, it doesn’t seem like Serena does. But even if it were Serena has no claim to the Brooklyn boy. There shouldn’t be the tiniest hint of betrayal that floats between them but there is. Blair, however, refuses to apologize for the way her lips wrap around his name or the feeling of calm that fills her whenever she speaks of him. She’s too selfish to give it up or hide it. All of her other feelings are hidden to save the hearts of others; she refuses not to let this one shine through. He makes her better, less pained, less anxious, and less hopeless. She won’t attach an I’m sorry to the way she needs him and make herself even more miserable than she already is. However, Serena’s face and the way her body fissures with pain whenever Blair smiles softly in conjunction with a sentence about Dan doesn’t go unnoticed.

Nate is never around. They fell apart awhile ago; Blair’s not sure when. They remain friends in the loosest definition of the word. There were no bitter, angry words exchanged. Just silence, a gradual close to a relationship. She never took notice of it until she realized that she hadn’t spoken to Nate one on one in the three months since she was released from the hospital. Not even a text. It surprised her that it hadn’t bothered her in the slightest. She thinks maybe it has to do with the fact she and Nate were never really friends. Not the way friends should be. He’d always been that way with Chuck. Always choosing Chuck despite knowing who he is. She can’t blame him for it considering she has done the same over and over for years. But it gives reason for why he can never quite look her in the eye anymore. It’s the same reason she can barely look at herself in the mirror.

Her mother says nothing. She is a woman of few words. Blair can count the number of words that have been spoken to her by her mother since the accident. All of their interactions are fragmented and paused, filled with accusations and blame. She has never felt more like her mother; it makes her stomach churn.

Dorota hovers as she always has. Her eyes plead for Blair to say anything to her but she can’t. Blair is filled with disappointment and shame. She doesn’t want to talk about that with Dorota. Dorota who has been there through it all. Dorota who has picked her up and put her back together every time she has gone and broken the pieces of her heart for love. Blair refuses to do that to her again. So, she puts on a brave face and fakes it the best she can. She doesn’t pay attention to the worry that crosses Dorota’s face whenever she sees a plastic smile settle on her glossy lips.

Louis is in Monaco. Blair had called him and told him that she couldn’t go through with the wedding. It was the first and last time she broke down in front of him. Sobs spilled from her throat as she tried to explain, her free hand clutching at her altered wedding dress. It fit perfectly but it no longer felt perfect. It was too tight and slim against her body, and she had found herself dialing his number as soon as she could get her hands to stop shaking. Louis had said okay. At first he had tried calming her down and telling her it was just…he hadn’t been able to properly state what “it” was considering his tied tongue and his scramble for the right words. And Blair kept shaking her head because she knew she was making the right decision as she listened to him search for something to say. She managed to get out, no, between sobs and then it was like she couldn’t stop. "No. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. This is my fault. I’m sorry. No. No. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Louis."

The call ended with Louis' sigh and "Okay. Okay, Blair. I’ll take care of it."

Chuck calls, a lot, leaving messages proclaiming his love and reassuring her that nothing’s changed for him. He loves her like a fire and he burns without her. All of his pleas for her to return his calls end with him begging her not to give up on what they have. He, however, has not tried to see her. There have been no extravagant gifts delivered to her doorstep, no flower arrangements sitting on the table in her entrance hall. This is how Chuck Bass does space. If Blair could find it in her to laugh she would but she can’t with the way her throat feels clogged when she sees that he’s calling or the tears that well in her eyes when she listens to his messages. It’s exhausting. Chuck is exhausting and she can’t, she can’t, so she doesn’t.

But there is one thing that she thinks she can do now.

"I pray because I still feel like I owe God."

"What?"

He blinks down at her and for the first time Blair recognizes how long his eyelashes are. It’s a strange thing to notice in this moment but they captivate her almost distracting her from the confusion pooling in his brown eyes.

"I’ve never been that religious but I made that deal with God and then I broke it. I promised that if Chuck was spared then I would marry Louis but I couldn’t go through with it. I feel like since I went back on my word then God can go back on his."

"Blair."

She shakes her head. The hesitance in his voice rings clear and that’s not what she wants from him.

"I know, okay? I know I sound ridiculous. It’s not like Chuck’s going to drop dead in the street because I broke off my engagement to Louis. But I made that deal and I promised I would stick with it and then I didn’t. I lied, Dan, which shouldn’t be that surprising I guess because all I seem to do is lie."

Dan grabs her hands and steers them away from the middle of the sidewalk. He tucks them into the corner of the church by the staircase. The small stone wall resting against Blair’s back. He doesn’t let go of her hands.

"I’m not religious, Blair. Not even a little bit. I don’t believe in God or the Spirit or anything that has to do with a supreme being. But if God were real I don’t think he would punish you for doing what you needed to do. You didn’t love Louis."

When she tries to interrupt he squeezes her hands which quiets her.

"You didn’t, Blair. Not enough to stay. You ran off with Chuck even though you were carrying Louis’ baby. You had plans to raise that child with him. And then when that horrible accident happened, you only chose to stay with Louis because you made a deal with God to save Chuck’s life. And even then he wasn't enough."

"I know."

"Then why do you insist on punishing yourself?"

"I'm not," she says and when he goes to interrupt she places her hand against his mouth before cupping his cheek. "I'm not," she repeats. "This is penance. I caused this and I can't fix it but I can show God that I'm sorry. I can try to right whatever cosmic balance I upset." 

She drops her hand from his cheek and looks down. "I don't know what else to do. So I come here and I pray. I tell God I'm sorry and I think about where I go from here. I'm lost, Dan, so lost."

He lifts her chin with his finger. "Okay well, wrathful God or no wrathful God...I'll be here until you find yourself and equilibrium again, Blair." 

And hopefully beyond that, they both think, but she says, "Promise?"

"Promise."

Dan presses a soft kiss to Blair's forehead and pulls her into an embrace before smiling as he leads them back onto the street completely missing the answering up tilt of her lips as another piece of her heart snaps into place. And though he fidgets when she prays and still refuses to fix his hair, Blair can't help but thank God for him. Thinks, _please for the next minute, hour, day, year, however long I can please let me keep him_ , but doesn't think much beyond that. Can't. Not now but maybe...she lets the thought trail off and listens to Dan list off places at which she might like to eat. 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
